To Sleep, But Perchance Not to Dream
by Whisper2AScream
Summary: (S6, AU)Willow has been having very peculiar nightmares of late, and there’s a connection to another Scooby. (Grand Finish and A/N up!)
1. Lightning Crashes

Title: To Sleep, But Perchance Not to Dream  
  
Author: Whisper2AScream  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Season 6, (post-Wrecked)  
Disclaimer: Willow, Xander, and the rest don't belong to me, they're with ME, Kuzui Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. The story is based on a concept set forward in the 1991 film, "Dead Again," directed by, and starring Kenneth Branaugh, along with Emma Thompson, and Derek Jacobi. If you've never seen the film, go rent yourself a copy, and watch it! You're in for a treat. If you have seen the movie, you'll probably recognize where this is going. R n R anyway, I think you'll like it.{And oh yes, the title comes from an obscure play by an obscure author, Shakespeare's Hamlet. ;) And the chapter titles come from song lyrics, which belong to their respective owners.}  
  
Summary: (AU Season 6) Based on the movie, "Dead Again." Willow has been having very peculiar nightmares of late, and there's a connection to another Scooby.   
  
Notes: I guess you can call it AU, since Giles is still around. (Well, the story just wouldn't work properly without him.) He worked out a deal with Buffy, where she agreed to make an effort to be more independent, and he decided to stick around. Anya does most of the day-to-day work at the Magic Box now, much to her delight. Tara is still gone though, and Willow's trying to keep to her no-magic rule. Some X/A, but it's mainly W/X.   
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"We got you now, and you're gonna ride the lightning tonight." A voice hissed in his ear, as the man was dragged to his feet. He was shoved out of the cell, and could hear the other prisoners on Death Row catcalling to him. He said nothing, and he simply faced forward as the priest read him his last rites. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He was dead already.   
  
He arrived in the execution room, the chair patiently waiting for him. The warden on duty called out to him, "Gregory Herschel, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers in the state of New York, and sentenced to death by electrocution this day, June 14, 1935. Do you have any final words?" His stoic expression was the only response.  
  
He didn't even blink as they sat him in the electric chair, and strapped him in. His head had already been shaved in preparation for the plate they were going to affix there. The hood was placed over him, and he closed his eyes. He could hear the wet sponge dripping across the floor, and then it was slopped on his head, some of the drops trickled down his cloth-covered cheeks. The plate was strapped on to him, and he could only wait as the guards called out, "Roll on 1. Roll on 2." Then, there was only pain.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
She sucked in her breath, and panting, opened her eyes. She sat up, and stared at her bedroom like she had never seen it before. She started a little as a lightning bolt flashed outside her window, the thunder following soon after. She shivered a little in the night air, despite the nightgown she was wearing.  
"Ok, that was intense," Willow replied. 


	2. Dreams So Real

The next morning, she headed over to the Magic Box, and found some books on dream interpretation.   
  
Giles came over, and noted her selection, including the one she was currently perusing through. He reached out with his right hand, and gently tipped the tome downward from her view.  
  
"Everything alright?"  
  
She nodded, "Yeah, of the good," She then frowned, and added, "Actually, had a creepy nightmare. Seemed real." Giles sat down, his eyes pensive and curious behind his metal-framed glasses.   
  
"Really, what was it about?"  
  
She replied hesitantly, "A lot of details were fuzzy. But some guy was being killed, electrocuted. He was in prison, so I guess he was a bad guy."  
  
Giles frowned thoughtfully, "Strange. Do you remember anything else?"  
  
"Not really, it was pretty clear this morning, but now, it's …" She waved her hand in the air to gesture. "pfft!"  
  
"Hmm… well, it might have been nothing. Sometimes, our dreams are merely methods for our minds to dredge out the previous day's events, and make sense of them. A purgative, if you will."  
  
Willow nodded. Her face became expressive as she remembered, "Oh, but Buffy gets vivid dreams, and they become true. So, could witches get the same thing?"  
  
"Possibly, but that more pertains to her own Slaying abilities. Though I honestly can't recall any other Slayer receiving prophetic dreams as she does occasionally. But your theory might be true."   
  
The little bell over the door jangled, announcing a person's arrival. They both turned as Xander burst into the shop.  
  
"Ah, two of my favorite people are here. Hey Willow, Giles. Ahn around?"  
  
Giles replied, "Actually, no, she said that she wanted to stop by the bridal shop to price their gowns."  
  
Xander grimaced a little, "Oh, yeah, that's right." He then sat down at the table, "So, what's up in the demon world?"  
  
Willow replied, "Nothing demony. Just bad dreams."  
  
He asked, "There weren't clowns, were there? Because I am so gonna kick his ass if we have to go through the 'nightmares are real' thing again. That, and make sure I have an extra set of clothes."  
  
Giles said, "Uh, no, nothing that extreme. Willow was just telling me about a rather vivid dream she had last night."  
  
Xander leaned forward, "Yeah, what about?"  
  
"Well, it was just this guy in prison, and he was getting electrocuted." She gave an involuntary shiver at the memory. "It was creepy."  
  
"Did you see his face?" Xander asked.  
  
She shook her head, "No, not really. Like I said to Giles, it's fuzzy."  
  
Giles thoughtfully said, "I don't believe this country has done executions as such for some time. Wouldn't be that familiar since we don't have anything as barbaric as a death penalty in England."  
  
Xander frowned, "Wait, didn't you used to behead people?"  
  
Willow said, "I think that was France. The guillotine, you know?"  
  
Giles rebutted, "Actually, Xander is right. We did behead people, but that was for enemies of the Crown typically. And that was centuries ago."  
  
Xander beamed, "Alright, chalk up one for Research Boy."  
  
Willow nodded, and then remembered, "Anyway, so I'm dreaming about something in the past?"  
  
Giles agreed, "It's quite possible. It could relate to a disturbed spirit. Perhaps the building you're in has a history to it."  
  
Xander pointed out, excitedly, "Like that frat house, where the abused kids were?"  
  
"Yes, or something similar."  
  
Willow frowned, and softly replied, "I guess." Something was odd, but she didn't think it was that. Well, hopefully, it was just a weird dream.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The man slowly crept into the room, where the woman was sleeping peacefully. He gently laid a hand upon her cheek briefly, and she murmured in her sleep.   
  
"For you," he whispered.  
  
He then held up a curved dirk, and slashed her across the throat. She jumped up, and her hand flew to the wide gash, futilely attempting to stop the flow of blood. Her wide eyes stared back in disbelief as the man drove his hand down, and down again, piercing her in the chest, and the side. Her blood ran everywhere, and the man's eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight. 


	3. Am I Dreaming My Life?

Willow burst into the shop, "Giles, it happened again." Giles was currently helping a customer, but he glanced up at her abrupt entrance.  
  
"Excuse me a moment." He said to the young woman he was helping, who simply nodded. Giles then guided Willow to the back.  
  
"Now, what happened again?" He asked.  
  
"The dream. Only this was different. I thought I dreamed about being attacked. Or maybe it was somebody else getting attacked. It was scary and confusing, and I'm really getting wigged."  
  
Giles nodded, "I did some reading into this, and I'm not sure, but it could be something in your past. Perhaps some forgotten trauma?"  
  
Xander then walked into the back, "Hey Willow, I got your message at work. What's wrong?"  
  
"I had another dream. It was bad, somebody was being killed, I think."  
  
He replied, "Will, I think you gotta talk with the Dream guy, and get some new dreams. This is freaky. Have you told Buffy?"  
  
She shook her head, "No, she's got too much to worry about, like Dawn, and money. Plus, she's got that job now, and things are going well. It's better she doesn't know."  
  
Giles nodded in agreement, "And if my suspicions are indeed correct, I doubt there is much she can do. Willow, what I was about to propose is possibly regression through hypnosis. It might help find the source of these dreams." She took a deep breath, and then agreed.  
  
Xander though, argued, "Whoa, wait a sec? Hypnosis? As in trances? Got a bad feeling about this. Willow, remember, you were saying no to magic."  
  
Giles explained, "This isn't magic, Xander. It's simply a mental exercise to clear the head, and free it to make connections that it normally can't find. Sometimes, time and psychological distress can obscure our memories, and block what we need to face. This will simply remove the blocks.  
  
Willow then said, "You can stay if you want. Keep lookout for me." She smiled at him, reminding of him when they'd hide out up in Jesse's tree house. He smiled back, and then nodded. 


	4. Turn Off Your Mind, Relax, and Float Dow...

A/N: Longer than the other parts, but necessary. Also gave this a recent proofreading.   
  
A while later, Giles calmly said, "Relax, and free your mind from any troubling thoughts." His voice took on a monotone drone as she relaxed, and easily slipped under trance. "You're walking down a corridor, and you can see a door. Whatever relates to your dreams lies behind this door." Upon sensing her inner hesitation, he added, "Nothing can harm you, you are separate from whatever you see. Open the door. What do you see?"  
  
Willow's voice seemed much quieter as she replied, "Two people in a home."  
  
"Do you know who they are?"  
  
"Dr. Gregory and Catherine Herschel. They're married, though it has only been two years."  
  
"Can you tell me about them?"  
  
Though her eyes were closed, a faint smile flickered on her face, "Yes. Dr. Herschel had been working in St. Thomas Hospital for only a few years, and then he treated an elder woman for influenza. It had been some time since the epidemic, but she was still dying. That was when he met her daughter, Catherine Byrne."  
  
--------------  
  
"How is she?" Catherine looked up at him, her red hair cut short in a becoming bob.   
  
His eyes were filled with regret of having to bring her such terrible news, "I'm sorry, but with her advanced age, and the progress of the illness, I don't believe she has much time left."  
  
She stared back at him, "No, how can you say that? There has to be something!" She angrily kicked the chair nearby. She then stopped, and stood still, her frame shaking with sobs, "There has to be." He put his arms around her, and let her cry on his shoulder. He typically wasn't so forward with patients or their families, but she seemed to need it. He can't heal the mother, but perhaps he could heal the daughter.   
  
He then gently asked, "Do you want to get a cup of coffee, and just talk, maybe?" He knew he could slip out for a little while, since it had been a quiet day mostly.  
  
She backed away, and looked back at him with a small smile, "Sounds like the bee's knees." The two headed downstairs, and across the street to where there was a little diner.   
  
--------------  
  
"The two met regularly for coffee after that, and Catherine's sense of humor brightened things for Gregory. And he was the support she needed after her mother passed away. He later learned that she was employed herself, as an assembly line worker making watches."  
  
--------------  
  
"You don't mind it? The monotony?" He said.  
  
She shook her head, "No, I like working with my hands. Putting something together. I mean, everybody always needs time, right?"  
  
"Some more than others, yes. Unless, they actually need less time, and then maybe that's not so good." He glanced down, "Sorry, I'm not making any sense. My mouth tends to run away from me."  
  
Catherine smiled, "That's all right. As long as you can catch it again." She added more thoughtfully, "Or someone to catch it for you."   
She leaned forward, and so did Gregory. They met in a soft, gentle kiss. They suddenly backed away at the same time, and Catherine blushed, "I'm sorry. That was a little forward of me."  
  
Gregory smiled at her, and replied, "It's fine. I was a bit forward, too." He then added, "Even if you have a sweet mouth." She smiled back.  
  
--------------  
  
"It wasn't long before they were married. They were so happy together."  
  
--------------  
  
"For you, my dear," Gregory said as Catherine opened the jewelry case where the necklace laid. She held it up. It was a thin, gold chain, with a small diamond pendent. He added, "I was told that this necklace is special. That when someone gives it to one they're meant to be with, the pendent shines like a star. It is supposed to be a sign that their love is forever, even after death."  
She smiled, "It's beautiful, thank you." She got up, and kissed him passionately. He then placed the gold chain around her neck, and did the clasp. The pendent did seem to shine brightly in the light of the room. "I'll never take it off." The two of them embraced, and kissed again. They kept close as the kissing intensified, then clothes starting sliding off, almost of their own volition…  
  
--------------  
  
"3… 2… 1…" Giles quietly said, and Willow woke up, feeling a bit flushed in the face. She glanced over at Xander, who was staring back at her. He was tempted to fan himself, and wondered if Giles had a heater going in the shop. Yeah, that had to be it. Expressions of shock and, well, lust swam across his features as he and Willow's eyes met.  
  
"What?" She asked. She couldn't help wondering why Xander was looking at her like that, and why she was interested. *No, gay, remember?* Right, silly notion anyway. And they had more important things going on. Like nightmares, and people who she never met, and yet felt so familiar. Worry about that, and not your friend, even if he's doing that cute thing with his face. *No, bad girl. He's taken. Forget it.*  
  
"Willow, you know you were talking about stuff from like years and years ago?" Driving his previous feelings away, his appearance was now visibly shaken, and a little pale.  
  
"Sometime in the early 20th Century, possibly in the twenties, I'm guessing," Giles added, straightening his glasses. "I think we've stumbled onto something here. Possibly a past life."  
  
Willow leaned forward, and asked, "You mean, like reincarnation? Who?"  
  
"I'm not certain, possibly this Catherine Herschel you were talking about." Giles replied, and took off his glasses. He waved them in his hand to accentuate his words. "Actually, the theme of reincarnation is believed by many different groups around the world, not merely Buddhists, either. Though they originated the idea I think. But other people who have undergone regression sometimes, will discover memories which are clearly not from their lifetime. Which are actually from a previous lifetime. Some have apparently have lived before multiple times."  
  
"But why now?" Willow pressed on.  
  
"Well, there was a murder," Xander replied, and both Giles and Willow turned to him. "You said so yourself, Will. A guy gets executed, and a woman attacked. She was murdered. It's obvious." Giles nodded in agreement at this fact.  
  
But Willow asked, "But again, why am I getting these dreams? Does this mean I'm going to be murdered?" Her blue eyes widened in fear at the chance of this.  
  
Giles answered, "I honestly don't know. Perhaps you can find some records of this couple. Gregory and Catherine Herschel?"  
  
Xander corrected him, "Doctor Herschel, he was a doctor, but we don't even know where they lived."   
  
"New York," Willow quietly replied, half to herself. Upon the pair of looks, she added, "I think they lived in New York. Maybe New York City?"  
  
"It's a start, at least." Giles then glanced at his watch. "It's late, and you should rest. I think we need to continue this, hopefully we can learn more." Willow nodded, and headed out to the front.  
  
Xander got up. He still felt uneasy about this. Past lives? Yeah, right. Ok, Willow and Giles seem to believe it, but it was still weird, and kind of disturbing. Speaking of disturbing, what was with that moment with Willow just now? *No, that was a fluke. Just a fluke. Willow has T…well, had, and anyway, you're practically married. Just forget it.*  
  
He commented, "Yeah, lemme go pry Anya from the register." He walked out, and Giles was left alone, still mulling over the problem. 


	5. It Is Not Dying, It is Not Dying

The next day, Willow went under even faster this time. Anya was more than happy to take care of the store while Giles was in the back with Willow and Xander.  
  
Giles then asked, "We need you to tell us when things started going wrong for Catherine and Gregory."  
  
Willow frowned for a moment, and said, "The Crash happened, and the watch factory folded. Gregory made enough to support them during the Depression. Though, Catherine still worried about the bills each month. But something terrible happened."  
  
-------------  
  
"I need more suction here." Gregory called out. They were losing him, he knew. The patient was under anesthetic, but the operation wasn't going well. He then heard a murmur coming from the patient. The ether wasn't enough. "Nurse, he's coming around. More ether now!"  
"But doctor, we just administered him a large dose."  
"It's not enough. Now do it. We can't have him waking up like this."  
The nurse nodded, and then placed the mask with the ether over him. She held it there to ensure he'd stay under. Then, Gregory noticed the patient thrashing, and struggling for breath. He knocked the mask away, but between the loss of blood and oxygen, it proved too much for the patient, who died in moments.   
  
-------------  
  
"The hospital knew it wasn't his fault, but they still fired him. It was either that, or he would lose his license. He tried to get work elsewhere, but nobody would take him. Catherine and Gregory went to a friend's holiday party that year, though neither was in good spirits. She then met someone there."  
  
-------------  
  
"Catherine, do you remember me?" A handsome man with blond hair smiled at her.   
  
She frowned, and then asked, "Robert? Is that you?" He took her hand, held it up, and kissed it.  
  
"Catherine, you're as lovely as you were. I've been so busy with Father's business these days. He died soon after the stock market fell, you see, and I've had to take over." He then noted the pendent upon her neck. "That is a quite fetching necklace. Where did you get it?"  
  
She smiled, and placed her hand by it gently, "This was a gift." She held it out a little so he could admire it. Gregory glanced over from where he was talking to someone, and witnessed this conversation.  
  
Meanwhile, Robert sidled closer, "So, how are you?" His hand reached towards her.  
  
"Happily married," Gregory commented, before slipping his hand around her waist possessively. "And who is this?"  
  
Catherine introduced them, "Oh, this is Robert, now head of Winters Corp. apparently. We knew each other in school. Robert, this is my husband, Dr. Gregory Herschel."  
  
Robert backed away, "Ah, well then congratulations are in order, I see." He seemed to be deep in thought, before continuing, "Herschel, yes, I remember hearing about an incident at a hospital." Gregory visibly stiffened at the comment. "You know, if you are in financial troubles, I can help." His gaze slid over Catherine as he added, "Anything for an old… friend."  
  
"We're fine, thank you," Gregory retorted in a clipped tone. He then guided Catherine away. "What was going with you two?"  
  
"Nothing, he was simply someone I hadn't seen in a long time."  
  
"And why was he eyeing your neck?"  
  
She replied, "I was simply showing off your gift. The only thing of value we have anymore really."  
  
"I don't trust him. Stay away from him." He sternly replied.  
  
"He said he could help us."  
  
"No, we'll find another way." Gregory stubbornly said.  
  
-------------  
  
"But he couldn't seem to find another way, and things got worse. Then…"  
  
-------------  
  
The man crept into the room, and attacked her. "For you," he whispered, and she screamed at the sight of Xander's face. 


	6. I've Seen Your Face Before, My Friend

Willow's eyes flew open, and she stared in shock at Xander. "You," She whispered. "You were there."  
  
Giles asked, "You saw Xander?"  
  
Xander asked, wondering what the hell was going on. "How, Will? This is the present. That's back in the twenties."  
  
She shook her head, "Thirties, and I saw you."  
  
Xander glanced at Giles, "Help me out here."  
  
"Maybe you simply had Xander on your mind, and you inserted him there?"  
  
She pressed on insistently, "But he was there, Giles. I know it."  
  
"I'm not Gregory." He replied, and added, "And wouldn't I be super old and wrinkly now if I were?" Willow still looked pretty shaken, and Xander asked, "You want me to give you a lift? I'm sure Anya won't mind. The store's not closing for a couple of hours anyway."  
  
She glanced at him, and then slowly nodded. "I'm just wigged, that's all." She took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, "I'm going to go online, and see what I can find about them."   
  
Xander then suggested, "Got an idea. How about we grab some coffee on the way to your place, and I'll help you look?"  
  
Willow glanced at him, "Um, isn't that how it started with Gregory and Catherine?"  
  
"I'm not Gregory." Xander repeated, and added, "Anyway, you know me. We get coffee all the time. How's this gonna be different?"  
  
Willow sighed, "Ok." For a second, she wished she was still a witch. If he did try something, she could stop him. *Whoa, this is _Xander._ He's as harmless as a puppy dog. This whole past life thing just has you freaked. *   
  
They grabbed a couple cups of coffee from the Espresso Pump, and went to her apartment. Buffy had kicked her out of the house after the fiasco with that magic dealer, and Dawn getting hurt. With Giles and Xander's help, she was able to afford a small place since it was too late in the semester to get a dorm room or an apartment with the University. She even had a part-time job at the University's bookstore now to help pay the bills.   
  
She booted up her laptop, and went online. She then started researching records. It was hard going, but luckily organizations had started transferring archived material online for safer keeping.   
  
"I found something," she replied, and brought a page with a newspaper article. It was dated April 20th, 1933, and the headline read, Herschel Murder Trial Begins Today. There was a picture of Gregory, and Catherine in it. Gregory looked like Xander, only a couple of years older, with a mustache, and a haircut of the time. Catherine, however, resembled an older version of Willow, and her hair was cut into a softly curled bob. Xander came over, and skimmed over it with her.   
  
'The trial of Dr. Gregory Herschel vs. the State of New York commences today. Herschel is suspected for the murder of his wife, Catherine, who was savagely stabbed and slashed repeatedly with a curved dirk knife on October 16th, 1932. The body was found with sections of the torso missing, and brutal cuts over a large part of the body. Dr. Gregory was located in the same room as the body, and his condition was described as being in shock. His fingerprints were the only ones upon the weapon, and it was rumored that Catherine might have been having an affair at the time of the murder.'  
  
"Oh god," Xander said, swallowing sickly. Willow's face, already somewhat light in complexion, had paled further. She quietly said,   
  
"Um, Xander? Could you back away a little?"  
Xander turned his head toward her, "Why? What's wrong?"  
  
"Maybe you should go now. I can look on my own." She softly replied.  
  
Xander stared at her, "You're afraid of me?"  
  
"No, that's not it."  
  
He nodded, "Yeah, you are." He then stepped back, and harshly said, "Alright, fine. I better leave you before I get all psychotic, and start hacking and slashing."  
  
"That's not what I meant." She argued.  
  
He yelled back, "Then what, Willow? Don't you know me at all?" He then muttered disgustedly, "That's great, you're more afraid of your best friend than of vampires and demons?"  
  
"No," she whispered.  
  
"I get it. It happened before, so I better go, before I kill you." He then got in her face, and yelled more. "Or maybe I should give you my gun so in case I try to sneak in, you can blow my head off, ok?"  
  
Close to tears, she cried, "Stop it!"   
  
Xander then collapsed, seeing the frightened look on her face. He realized he was sounding a bit like his father just then. He then went over, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He said, soothingly. "I would never hurt you, Catherine."   
  
Willow pushed him away, and he shouted at the same time, "Oh my God!" He likewise backed away from her, the pair staring at each other in disbelief. 


	7. But I Don't Know If You Know Who I Am

"You are walking down a corridor, and can see a door in front of you. Only you will be experiencing everything firsthand this time. Open the door," Giles intoned, and then asked, "Where are you?"  
  
"Stairs, my stairs. I'm going downstairs." Xander replied, seeing the stairs going past. The polished wood grain reflected the dim light faintly.  
  
Giles briefly glanced at Willow, before asking, "What do you see?"   
There was a simple window, currently closed nearby. "Uh, a window, and then a room. My living room. There's a mirror nearby." Feet were touching the floor, and feeling the soft carpet beneath the toes. A hand briefly touches an end table nearby.  
  
"Who are you?" Giles pressed.  
  
A face swam into view in the mirror's reflection, "I'm… Herschel." Catherine's scared face stared out from the looking glass. He whispered, his voice so hushed that the pair could barely hear him, "Catherine Herschel."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Xander whispered urgently, "I have to end this…"  
  
  
"…I have to end this. He won't leave us alone if I don't. He won't leave me alone," Catherine resolutely said to herself as she went to the phone.  
  
A shadow appeared on the wall near her as she said into the receiver,   
"Robert, stay away from us. Don't ever call here again. I don't care what you think Gregory has done, now goodbye!" She slammed down the receiver, and then started upon the figure standing there.  
  
"Gregory!" She cried.  
  
Xander gasped as he awoke from the trance. He panted a few times, and looked between Willow and Giles.   
  
"I was right." He finally said, "I'm not Gregory, and you're not…"  
  
"Giles, I need your help!" Buffy rushed in. She then stopped, and asked, "Everything ok?"  
  
Willow nodded, and then got up. She nervously headed out to the front of the shop. Xander got up as well, and grimly walked out as well. He hoped to catch up with Willow, but she was already gone.  
  
Anya stopped him, "Sweetie, I have to talk to you! I found the cutest gown."  
  
"Not now, Ahn," he said, and started walking past her. However, she grabbed his shoulder to stop him.  
  
"If not now? When? The day of the wedding?"  
  
Xander tried to shake her off, "Anya, I got a lot going on right now."  
He began walking away again, but she then asked, "What, this whole past life thing?"  
  
He stopped, and turned back to her, "What?"  
  
Anya replied, "I wasn't born a century ago, and anyway, I overheard you guys in the back at one point. Do you want to talk about it? I've actually seen it before. In fact there was one couple, that I think I cursed a couple of times over a few of their lifetimes."  
  
Xander then nodded, "Yeah, ok." 


	8. Oh Don't Talk of Love, the Shadows Purr

A while later, Anya and Xander sat on a couch at his apartment. Xander had just completed telling her what he knew.  
  
"So, you're saying that you used to look like Willow?"  
  
"In that life, yeah. Weird, huh?"  
  
Anya replied nonchalantly, "Not really, it's common. In fact, I've used it as a curse on men, where they spend their next life as a woman. But there has been people who were fathers in one life, and daughters in another."  
  
"Ok… so anyway, what does that mean for now? Why us?"  
  
She shrugged, and replied, still in an even tone, "Maybe revenge for your death? If you look at it, it'd be self-defense."  
  
Xander stared at her in horror. He then slowly asked, "Anya, you are not suggesting that I should kill Willow, are you?"  
  
"Why not? She already tried to hurt Dawn. She put all of us under a forgetting spell, and she killed you."  
  
He closed his eyes, and held up a hand to stop her. He inhaled a breath, opened his eyes, and said, "Ok: A) that was during her bad magic power trip, which is over now. B) That was in another life, and I don't know if it was her, or him, or whatever." He ran his hand through his hair, "God, this is confusing."  
  
"Past lives usually are." She added angrily, "Now, I'm not going to let her ruin our wedding by killing you."  
  
"She's not going to kill me!" Xander got up, and started pacing. "I mean, this is Willow, we're talking about! My best friend, my other half, my l…" He broke off, realizing what he was about to say. His startled eyes slowly turned to gaze back at Anya.  
  
She angrily stood up, and yelled in his face accusingly, "I knew it! You were about to say love, weren't you? She could kill you, and you love her! I thought something was odd with your icy feet. You didn't really want to marry me, do you?"  
  
Xander grabbed her shoulders, "Anya, I do love you, and I asked you to marry me because I want to. Like I said before, this whole cold feet business is just because I'm so afraid of something going wrong. I've never had good luck in relationships, and I just want it to work out for once."  
  
"But you love her." She insisted, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger and hurt at someone who she had loved more than her own life.  
  
"I do, as a friend." But his tone seemed hesitant, and he paused in thought. *Wait, but all that stuff was a fluke. Hormones going into overdrive, and she's gay now anyway. Right?* He wasn't sure of anything anymore, especially with this supposed past life he had . After all, they had been married, and had loved each other then. Why not now?  
  
Anya stared at him, and tears started forming in her eyes, "No, not as a friend. You love her." She then grabbed her left hand, and wrested the engagement ring off her finger. She threw it at him, "Fine, give her this then! And when she does kill you, I'll come to your funeral, and I'll laugh!" Her lips quivered as she yelled, "I will! I'll laugh, and say I told you so! I'll be there with Cordelia, and we'll both be laughing at you! The idiot who dumped us both for the same woman!" She slapped him, and then ran out, crying.   
  
"Anya, wait!" He called out to her, and ran out into the hallway after her. But she was gone. He went back inside his apartment, and sunk onto the couch. 


	9. I've Been Watching Me Fall For It Seems ...

Willow was also having a rough night. She headed back to her place, forgetting that walking after dark wasn't such a great idea. She stopped when she heard the cracking sound of a branch breaking underfoot.  
  
"Not too bright, walking alone. Can run into all sorts of evil out here," Spike commented loudly as he appeared from behind a tree. "Though, you being one of them, I guess that doesn't matter, does it?"  
  
She quietly said, "I'm not evil."  
  
Spike sauntered up to her, and blew smoke in her face, "Could have fooled me. You going on with the black mojo and all. Maybe you convinced them you're all better, but I've seen the truth. You stepped into darkness, got a taste for it now."  
  
Willow shook her head, "No. Spike, I'm really having a bad night. In fact, several bad nights." She started to walk away, but then paused in thought. Spike had lived, well in a manner of speaking on 'living', but he had been around for over a century. Maybe he knew something about all this.   
  
She then glanced back at him, "Do you know anything about past lives?"  
  
The blond vampire frowned, "You mean, reincarnation, karma, that sort of thing?" Off her slight nod, he added, "Yeah, heard a bit here and there. What? You think you were Queen Elisabeth in a previous life?"  
  
Willow shook her head, "No, I think I might have killed someone in a previous life."  
  
An interested light appeared on his face. Then, he asked, now curious, "Oh? Who, Red?"  
  
"My wife." 


	10. You Gave Me Flowers of Love... I Let Fal...

Spike leaned back in the ratty chair he was sitting in. They were currently in his crypt. Willow fiddled with her hands as she sat on top of a stone slab nearby.  
  
"Quite a tale there," he said. "So you think you were this Gregory bloke, and Xander was," he couldn't help sniggering a little at the idea of that moron as a woman, "your wife? And you killed her?"  
  
Willow replied, "I don't know, maybe." She frowned.  
  
Spike shrugged, "In that case, you know what you have to do."  
  
Her eyes peered back at his, "What?"  
  
He leaned forward, and there was a predatory glint in his eyes. "Kill him. I'll bet he's considering killing you. He'd get revenge finally."  
  
She shook her head violently, "No, Xander would never." *He wouldn't, he's kind, he's loyal. He's everything I'm not.*  
  
"I've seen him. He's a wanker, but he's not afraid to fight." He added with a tone of disgust in his voice. "And you haven't exactly been all that trustworthy. That business with Rack, Little bit getting hurt, not to mention you giving all of us magickal amnesia."  
  
She nodded, "I know, I'm sorry for all that, that's why I gave it up. But I can't kill Xander. He's always been there for me, my support, my love." Her eyes widened at the last words out of her mouth. She then rushed out, "I mean, as a friend, because after all, I'm gay."  
  
"Who are you trying to convince, pet? You? Because it bloody well isn't me." He smirked knowingly. He suspected something was up with the two of them. Friends don't act that close without some sparks flying. Just that they're better with the denial business than Buffy and Angel ever were.   
  
She suddenly seemed very interested in feet as her gaze turned to her shoes. "I don't know. I mean, there were the fluke and the secret kissage. Which was good." Her face became wistful, as she added, "No, better than good. It was perfect."  
  
"Huh, no wonder the wolf and the witch ditched you."  
  
Willow angrily turned to him, "How dare you! Who are you to talk? You're a soulless vampire who loves a Slayer, and she hates your guts!"  
  
Spike scoffed, "Well, I'm good enough for a shag apparently." He then leaned forward in his chair, "But that's another story. As for you, I'd think about carrying an arsenal if I was you. Just in case, he comes calling."  
  
"No, he wouldn't dare. He knows what I can do." She resolutely said, her voice decidedly grim. She heatedly intoned, "He tries to hurt me, he knows I can hurt him far worse. I'm not one to mess with."   
  
Spike quietly commented with a thoughtful expression as he recognized the bloodlust on her face, "Maybe you really did kill her." His words fell on deaf ears as Willow seethed. 


	11. Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone

Xander, meanwhile, knew that sulking didn't help things. Brooding maybe, since Angel does it all the time, and chicks love it. Never really understood why that was. Maybe it was the tall, dark, and mysterious thing? Or the fact, he could turn into a cold-blooded (literally) killer in an instant? He sighed. *This is getting me nowhere.* He had to find out the truth. Maybe if he could learn what happened with Gregory and Catherine, he and Willow won't make the same mistakes. Otherwise, neither of them had much time left.   
  
*Ok, how do Giles and Willow do this? Gotta think. Need facts. Need to get information. * Synapses fired across his brain, and the neurons transferred data to each other. Then, a thought appeared in his mind suddenly. Robert. That guy who was drooling over Catherine. Maybe he was still alive? Then again, it had been about 70- 80 years ago, no way in hell the guy could still be alive. Still, it was worth a shot. He picked the telephone, and dialed 411. The operator answered promptly.  
  
Xander then said, "Yeah, hi, I'm looking for a number in New York, first name, Robert."  
  
"Last name?"  
  
Last name, what was his last name? Ok, c'mon brain, work! He closed his eyes. No... no... there! "Winters. Of Winters Corporation."   
  
"Yes, there is a Robert Winters. Do you want the number?"  
  
"Yes please." He grabbed a nearby pen and paper.  
  
"212-555-4572," The falsely perky voice, most likely which had been burgeoned with several cups of coffee strong enough to melt metal spoons, replied.  
  
"Got it, thanks." He disconnected, and then took his finger off the button to dial. The phone rang several times before an answering machine came on. He glanced at the time. That's right, they were a couple of hours ahead. It was already after midnight, who could be up at this hour?  
  
He then said after the beep, "Mr. Winters, I have a message for you. Please call back at this number," He then rattled his phone number, and then appended the message with, "Also, Catherine wonders if you're as lovely as you were." He then disconnected. 


	12. Because I'm Already Gone

The next morning at 6am, the insistent ringing of his phone awakened Xander. His eyes sleepily blinked open, and he reached one arm out to grab it. He blindly fumbled for it before his finger touched cold plastic, and he picked up the receiver.   
  
"Hello?" he mumbled with a voice still gravelly from sleep.  
  
A stern voice snarled back, "Alright, who the hell is this? Is this some kind of prank?"  
  
Xander sat up, and replied, "Is this Robert Winters?"  
  
"Yes, it is. Who the hell is this?"  
  
"Uh, sir, you don't know me, but I was doing some research into the Herschel case."  
  
"The what? What are you? A cop?"  
  
"Uh, no, this is Alexander Harris, sir. I was just wondering what you could tell me about it."  
  
"What? I don't know what you're talking about." The voice vehemently replied.  
  
Xander leaned forward and insisted, "Sir, you are Robert Winters? Who used to know a Catherine Byrne Herschel?"  
  
The voice then said, "No, wait a second… My grandfather had mentioned something about a Catherine once." Xander felt a sinking feeling at the past tense used in the sentence.  
  
"Mentioned? I'm guessing he's dead?" Xander asked even as he thought, *Damn, what now?*  
  
"Yes, died back in 1979. Why? What is this all about?"  
  
"Uh, never mind. Sorry to have disturbed you, sir." He quickly put the receiver down in the cradle again, and sat there thinking. Dead, so can't get information there. Not unless you resurrect them , like Buffy. And that was one time thing, and he really didn't want to go through all that again. Especially the psycho body-jumping creature feature that came after them. Plus, the urn was broken anyway, so no, nothing there. So what did that leave? It's not like you can call up heaven or hell on the telephone… wait a second…. A thought then occurred to him. Yeah, that just might work, but how? 


	13. Something Inside That U Wanna Say, Say I...

After work later, he headed to the Magic Shop. Anya took one look at him, and then with an audible huff, turned around to face the shelves behind her. She started making a big show of dusting the items there.  
  
Xander came up to the register, and said, "Anya, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."  
  
The only response was a visible stiffening of the shoulders, and an unspoken, 'But you did.'  
  
He then sadly walked away. Meanwhile, Giles descended from the loft upstairs.  
  
"Xander?" He asked, and then noticed Anya's reaction. "Oh, I see."  
  
Xander replied, "No, you don't. Giles, I need to ask you something."   
  
Giles nodded, and gestured to the back room. The two walked along quietly until they were inside the converted dojo.  
  
"Well, what is it?" He asked, and then added, "Every couple always has disagreements, but they overcome them. Well, sometimes." A pained expression briefly crossed his face as he remembered his own disagreements with Jenny. It had been years since her murder, but the wound still wasn't healed. It probably never would completely.  
  
"Not like this," Xander said. He sighed, and sat down in a folding chair nearby. "It's kind of complicated. I love her, but she thinks I love someone else more. And I don't know. Maybe she's right."  
  
"There's another woman? Xander, are you suggesting that you've been seeing other women?" Giles frowned. He knew the young man had a habit of letting his hormones rule, but he had thought Xander had matured beyond that.  
  
He shook his head, "No, of course not. I love Anya. But I…" He then said, "I blame Homecoming." He then added, "No, that was the time of the Fluke, but it didn't start there." He glanced up at Giles, and the older man was surprised by the serious expression on his normally jovial face.   
  
Xander then went on, "I can still remember when we went to the hospital after trying that soul restoration spell. I couldn't even remember my arm hurting me. All I knew was my best friend was dying, and I was wishing that it was me instead. The second I could, I went to her room, and sat beside her. Her hand seemed so delicate and cold, I thought I might break it if I gripped it too hard. And seeing her lying there so still scared me. She was dying, and it felt like I was dying with her. I started talking, hoping that she'd still hear me, and tell me to shut up, or something." He gave a small, cynical laugh, and then continued, "I started talking about how we'd always call each other, and she'd always help me with my homework. So good, and supportive. And she never asked for anything back. Then, I realized that my life just wasn't worth living without her. I can't, we've always been there for each other. Always my Willow, bestest buds, only that was only part of it. She's my other half, my better half. I needed her. I love her." He got up angrily, and started walking around, "Then, she wakes up, and yells for Oz. And suddenly I was too late. I waited too long, and he took my place. She chose him. But he made her happy and confident, something I never could do. Better to let him have her, right?" He looked back at Giles, and said, "After all, Will should have the best, and that's never been me."  
  
Giles was stunned. He had heard a bit after the fallout the pair had with their significant others. But he had no idea their feelings extended this far. He also remembered some of the looks Willow had given Xander before she met Oz. Giles had thought it was merely a innocent schoolgirl's crush, and Xander was too oblivious to notice. He quietly said, "But she had wanted you first."  
  
Xander nodded, "I know. I didn't know it then, how could I? We knew each other since we were kids, and I still saw her as one. I didn't know she had grown up. I was still a kid myself, had no idea. I only grew up recently."  
  
"Yes, well, considering you wanted to marry Anya. I would say that is a very mature step."  
  
"Is it? Cuz now I'm thinking I just said it because I was afraid of being alone. She was the first person to admit that she needed me. It's always been me needing people, not the other way around."  
  
Giles nodded. He had suspected something was off in Xander's family. Xander had made attempts to joke it off, but there seem to be very little love in the Harris household. He noticed how the young man latched onto him as a much-needed father figure. He had to admit, the Giles household wasn't all that different. Only his own father had pressured him into the Watchers, like he had no other choice in the matter. Nothing less than perfection in the Giles family. It was enough to make anyone want to take the first autobus somewhere else.   
  
Giles then replied, "Xander, I can't tell you what is right or wrong in a case like this. You have to decide for yourself. Who is in your heart?"  
  
*W… Anya, Wanya? Oh admit it, Harris. Part of you found her annoying, with her obsessions with sex and money. I mean, hello, can we change the CD already? Part of her is nice, really nice. But that's not the same as love, is it? And there was somebody there already. Somebody who never went away.* "Willow," he quietly replied.  
  
"Then, you have to tell her."  
  
"Right now, she doesn't even trust me. I mean, this whole past life deal, and by the way, why a woman?" Xander then demanded, his hands gesturing wildly. "I mean, ok, I can have fun with my… um… feet all day, but I kind of like the whole guy package deal more."  
  
Giles shrugged, "There's thousands of theories behind past lives, most referring to karma; in that in each life we must learn something to move on spiritually."  
  
"Learning? As in school? No wonder my life sucks."  
  
"Not lessons in that sense, more learning through a lifetime of experience, and passing that on into the next life."  
  
"So, my lesson in this life is to be a guy? Cuz I thought I had that covered."  
  
"More like a change of perspective." Giles straightened his glasses, "Now, what did you need to ask me?"  
  
"What do you know about séances? I need to contact someone, and I don't think ghosts use cellphones and beepers." 


	14. Whispers in a Dead Man's Ear

It wasn't until later that they had a table set up. Giles closed up the shop a bit early, and drew down the blinds. Anya didn't even say a word to Xander, and only uttered a curt "Good night," to Giles before departing. Giles glanced over the items laid out on the table, checking that they had everything needed. Contrary to popular belief, much of the implements supposedly required, like crystal balls, incense, and candles, weren't really necessary. Most would simply have them there to reassure customers. Smoke and mirrors, the fundamental cornerstone of magic in the common world.   
However, there were a few things that aided in contacting spirits. Not as easy to come by as crystal balls, and a lot stranger in appearance. Xander was currently staring at one such item.  
  
"Um, Giles, what is this Eye of Horrors?"  
  
"Eye of Horus," Giles corrected, "It is to aid in viewing the other side." He sighed, and added, "This would be much easier with a real magick practioner."  
  
"Well, Tara's gone, and Willow's in the Just Say No wagon." Xander said, "Anyway, I don't think she wants to see me right now."  
Giles frowned, but was uncertain how to respond. He then reached for Xander's hands, and the pair linked their hands across the small table.   
  
"Venite, spiritus morire. Nous implorem." Giles intoned. "We call upon the spirit of Robert Winters, born 1905. Speak with us for we have need." A sudden wind rose up, rattling the shelves, and jarring the contents there. Xander shivered as the room's temperature dropped several degrees in an instant. He glanced up as an elderly man appeared by the table.  
  
"Well, what the hell do you want?" The ghost of Robert Winters asked. Xander and Giles simply stared back at Robert for a moment. Xander was the first to come back to himself.   
He stated, "Uh, we want to ask you about Gregory and Catherine Herschel."  
  
The spirit's expression softened slightly, "I see. I remember them. Such a long time ago. I thought I would see her when I died, but there was nothing," He shook his head, and then asked, "Why?"  
  
Xander took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He then replied evenly, "Because I was Catherine." His eyes gazed back at the ghost. Robert walked toward him, his hand reached out, and his fingers went through Xander's face. Xander couldn't help flinching at the cold contact, though he could sense gentleness from the spirit. The ghost then backed away, never looking away from Xander.  
  
"I heard a little about such things when I was alive, but I never imagined. You know, you actually look more like Gregory."   
  
"I know," Xander quietly said.  
  
Giles then asked, "Can you help us? Do you know who killed Catherine?"  
  
Robert looked back at Xander again, "You don't remember…? no, of course, probably some rule about that." He seemed to sigh, though more from humanly habit than actual need for breath.   
  
"No, I don't know who killed her. But I did find some things about Gregory. He was married before. But he had moved out of their home before he met Catherine. That wasn't the only skeleton in his closet either. He had done some reading into the occult, and spiritualism. A bit of a dabbler, mostly looking for alternate cures. Almost got in trouble with the hospital one time, but since the patient pulled through, nobody complained." His expression hardened, "He was also stubborn, and had a temper. His first wife mentioned that they fought often, but she loved him anyway. He didn't though, and obviously she didn't like Catherine at all." Xander and Giles listened attentively, barely breathing.   
  
Robert continued, "Funny thing was, when I mentioned this to Catherine, she didn't believe me. She even mentioned she knew his collection of books, and it was all science and medical books. The detective I hired even stated the same thing when he did some investigating in the apartment. No herbs, no strange books, not even an Ouija board. I guess he never took any of it with him when he moved out, and married Catherine. But his first wife, Hannah, I think her name was, she mentioned something curious to me when I talked to her."  
  
  
Hannah peered back at him, "Of course I still love him, as much as I wish to curse him. Do you have any idea what it is like for me? I hear whispers all the time from people, how I wasn't good enough for Gregory, or I must be some sort of harlot for him to leave me. They have no idea. Marriage is supposed to be forever, he's the one committing adultery, not me. Sometimes I wish I could have revenge for the shame and hurt he caused me, how he scorned me. Make him and her suffer how I have suffered. Humiliate him, and take everything he cares for away." She paused for a moment, and smiled, "Wouldn't it be nice if there was a genie or something to do that for me?"  
  
  
Xander's head was spinning. Pieces of the puzzle were dropping into place, and he didn't like the picture forming. Oh no. No, she didn't mean who he think she did. She couldn't have. He exchanged a scared look with Giles.  
  
Giles cleared his throat, "Thank you very much, Mr. Winters. You have helped us greatly. Depart, and be at peace."  
  
The ghost smiled, and looked at Xander, "Sure, anything for an old friend. Be seeing you, Catherine." He came over to Xander, and leaned forward. Xander tried to squirm backwards in the chair, but he still felt ghostly, and cold lips brush against his warm lips. Before he could say anything, the spirit vanished.  
  
Xander yanked his right hand away from Giles' hand, and fervently rubbed his mouth.  
  
"Ugh, let's never do that again. Bad enough I have female ghoulies checking me out, now ghosts? Guy ghosts even? Ugh."  
  
"Errr, yes, I'm guessing you came to the same assumption as I did who this Hannah contacted. There might have been a mention in one of the books Gregory had left. Hmmm…must have been an interesting collection." Giles thoughtfully added, the bibliophile in him always taking an interest in rare and unusual books.  
  
Xander yelled to get his attention, "Giles! This Hannah chick must have contacted Anya. She did… Omigod, she did something… Catherine dies, and Gregory gets framed for it… Just like her wish." Xander got up, "I got to find her. Have to make sure. Uh, thanks Giles for everything." He then rushed out, and was through the front door before Giles could call out to him.   
  
Xander jumped into his car, and peeled out into the street, *I hope I'm not too late.*  
  
Meanwhile, Willow had been reading through her magic books again, looking for spells to protect, and to harm enemies. She froze, hearing somebody knocking at her front door.  
  
She got up, and answered the door, "Yes?"  
  
"Hello, Willow," Anya said. 


	15. My Lover, My Life... And I Killed Her Wi...

Xander pulled up by Anya's apartment. She had kept it since the lease was still good, despite the fact she was all but living with Xander now. They had agreed to wait till after they were married. But now that was something that was never going to happen.  
  
*No, let it go. For Godsakes, she's _murdered_ before. She killed _you._* He took a deep breath before plunging into the place. It was easy enough since she had given him a spare key several months back. He opened the drawers, and peered in. No, it didn't look like it was here. Her revolver wasn't here. She must have taken it with her. Which meant he should grab his own gun, but he didn't think there would be time. And he didn't want to think what he might have to do with it. He remembered her giving it to him for his birthday. Odd present, but she said she thought he could use some extra protection. He hugged her at the time, knowing that she cared about him. And he had to admit, not everything dangerous in Sunnydale was demonic necessarily. Experience only proved the dangers of the human variety.   
  
He was shaken from his memories as he searched her desk, and saw a corner of what looked like a box. His hands clutched upon the object, fumbling a little. It was a jewelry box. His hands shook slightly as he lifted up the wooden top. His eyes widened at the necklace glinting in the low light. His fingers brushed cold metal, and then tightened around the pendant and braided chain. His eyes closed…  
  
  
She had been ready to fall asleep, too tired to stay up any later. Gregory had been called away on an emergency. One of the neighbors in the apartment building had a bad fever. Like so many others in these hard times, they were very poor, and had asked him to make a house call. Eager to help someone again, he readily agreed to supply the free care.  
  
Catherine had wanted to stay up, and wait for him. However, she was very tired. She had gotten a temporary job as a secretary, but the long hours drained her. She glanced up, hearing footsteps nearby. She hurriedly sat up, and made a few passing sweeps of her fingers through her hair to smooth the slightly tousled mane.  
  
"Gregory? Darling, I hadn't heard you come in." She smiled at first, but it quickly melted away at the figure approached her. It looked like him, but his eyes were so strange. Cold and distant as the moon.  
  
"For you," the Gregory figure rasped, and she screamed, seeing the knife plunging toward her. Pain erupted in her chest, and side. Then, as her blood pooled beneath her body, her dimming vision saw a grotesque, vaguely feminine creature grabbing at her throat. She couldn't feel anything by this point, except a sense of fading, like a badly tuned radio signal. As she died, she thought she heard her husband screaming her name. She wanted to go to him, but then the darkness carried her away.  
  
Xander's eyes snapped open, and he shoved the pendant into his jean pocket. He rushed outside, not even bothering with shutting doors behind him. He raced downstairs, leaping several steps at a time, and nearly falling as a result. He hit the ground floor running, and didn't stop until he was back in his car. He slammed the door shut, jammed the key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot. The screeching sound of wheels shifting gears, and the vile stench of burning rubber filled the night. 


	16. Don't Leave Love Bleeding In My Hands Ag...

A/N: Longer part, and this is rated PG-13 for the graphic content.  
  
Willow frowned, noting the sad expression on Anya's face. "What's wrong?" She backed away to admit the other woman.  
  
Anya walked in, her steps hesitant, and faltering upon the plush carpeting. She turned to face Willow, revealing dried tear marks trailing alongside her face.   
  
Willow quietly asked, "Was it Xander? What did he do?" She sat down, and gestured Anya to do the same.  
  
She nodded silently, and then said urgently as she sat down in a folding chair, "I had to come and see you. I'm scared, and I'm worried what he might do. He told me about your past lives, and how he thinks you're going to kill him. I tried talking to him, saying you wouldn't. But his face," She closed her eyes, and gave an inward shudder. Her eyes slowly opened, the orbs wide as they looked back at Willow's blue eyes. "He started arguing and yelling. He's changed. I should have known he would. He seemed so nice, but how many men I cursed seemed so nice in the beginning, and then became so cruel?"  
  
Willow shook her head, "No, Xander's not like that. He's never been like that." He never would hurt her. He doesn't get angry like that. …Wait, he did get angry. After Mrs. Summers died, he was so angry that he punched the wall in Willow's dorm. She didn't know he was capable of that. It seemed something more like what his father would do. And Xander did have a good reason, because he was upset over her death. They all were upset… but he punched the wall. She just fretted about what to wear, and he acted violently. Maybe she didn't really know him as well as she thought. They had drifted apart after all. She's changed a lot, why shouldn't he?   
  
Anya observed Willow's troubled thoughts flickering across her face, and quietly echoed the same thoughts. "See? People changed. I've seen it for thousands of years. Why should now be any different? He wants to hurt you. Maybe me too."  
  
Willow resolutely said, "No, he won't. I won't let him." She felt the familiar spark of power rising as her anger and determination grew. She let it grow, feeding it with her emotions.  
  
Then, there was knocking at the door.  
  
"Willow? Will, are you there? I need to talk to you! It's important."  
  
Anya shrank into her chair, "Oh no, he's here. He's coming for us."  
  
Willow reassured, "It's ok, you hide so he doesn't see you." She then yelled out, "Go away Xander. Just leave me alone!"  
  
Xander pleaded urgently, "C'mon on, Will? Please open the door. I have to talk to you. You're in danger."  
  
"I won't let you hurt me," She shouted back, her stance matching her "resolve face."   
  
Outside the door, Xander cursed under his breath, and then backed away from the door. He lowered his shoulder, and ran up, ramming his body against the door. The brass hinges protested against the impact, but did not give. It took three more attempts before the door finally collapsed into the room, and Xander stumbled in.  
  
Willow called out, her eyes becoming black, "Stay away from me!"  
  
Xander held his hands up before him as he slowly walked towards her. "Just let me explain."  
  
"No!"  
  
He took a deep breath, and then blurted out, "Gregory didn't do it."  
She stared back at him, and he added, "He didn't kill Catherine. He was out tending a patient." His hand reached into his jean pocket, fingers straining and fumbling in the thick fabric. His fingertips finally touched metal that had been warmed by the close proximity to his body heat. He started pulling out the necklace, adding, "Look, I got this for you."   
  
But even as his hand emerged, clutching the strand, she brought her hands up, and cried out a single phrase in Latin. A massive wave of energy came from her palms, and slammed Xander's frame into the wall behind him. His head rocked back at impact with a sickening crack, and he sank onto the floor. Willow slowly approached him, her entire body shaking with power, and emotion. Her eyes spied a glint of metal on his hand, and she knelt down, seeing braided metal draped across his fingers. Her fingers reached out, and picked up the chain. Her eyes widened at the sight of the pendent gleaming there.   
"What have I done?"  
  
  
Gregory had just finishing tending to Mr. Martin, when he heard a scream rip through the thin walls of the apartment building. It sounded like, oh God, Catherine? He got up, and hurriedly said goodbye, racing through the hallway, screaming Catherine's name as he ran into their apartment. The doors were opened, and he didn't stop running until he reached the bedroom. He stopped in shock, seeing blood everywhere. Long loopy trails were sprayed across the walls, and the bed. The sheets were so saturated that it seemed like they were always red. And his wife… no… he could see that she had been cruelly eviscerated, her heart missing. Where? There was a gaping maw where her chest was, and the cavity itself was empty, as though somebody plucked the organ as easily as plucking fruit.  
  
A raspy voice asked, "Looking for this?" His terrified face beheld the horrific image of a creature that looked as though her veins were sculpted onto her body. She smiled languidly as she held a beating heart, which was now slowing in her hand as the blood trailed down her arm.   
  
"What in God's name are you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper in his bone-dry mouth.  
  
"Vengeance." She replied, and disappeared in a flash of light.  
  
  
Hot tears splashed down her face, emerging from her once again blue eyes.  
  
"No," she softly cried. He wasn't dead, he can't be. She turned around suddenly hearing footsteps approaching. She glanced up at Anya, who was standing there.  
  
"I… attacked him."  
  
Anya nodded, "He shouldn't have been hurt, but he made his choice." She then held up her revolver, her hands covered by gloves. "You stole him from me. Just like Catherine stole Gregory from Hannah."  
  
Willow stared back at her, "You. It was you all along."  
  
"She wished it. She wished that he suffered like she did. To lose everything. His job, his wife, his life. Everything." She then cocked the safety off, and slid her finger into the trigger. "Just like you. And you said that it was over between you two. "   
  
"No, don't do this. I thought you love him?"  
  
"I do." She coldly replied, and fired. Willow felt the bullet hit her in the side, pain searing through the wound. Black and red globules appeared at the edge of her vision as the pain screamed through her. Finally overcome, her eyes closed.   
  
Xander's eyes flickered open, and he glanced over seeing Willow shot.  
  
"Willow!" He cried out, and went to check her, trying to forget his concussion for a moment.  
  
"Xander."  
  
He glanced up at the sound of his name, and saw Anya holding her gun.  
  
"You. Why?" He gaped back at his fiancée with anguish, fear, and horror blending upon his pale face.  
  
She resolutely replied, "She took you from me. I can't allow that. I won't."  
  
He tried to get up, and stopped briefly as his surroundings spun sickly. He held up a hand, the palm facing Anya as he finally stood shakily.  
  
"Anya, please don't do this." He begged her earnestly. "Look, let me call an ambulance at least. We'll get you some help along with Willow."   
  
The revolver swung in his direction, and she spat out, "Let her die. Everybody pays attention to her. She tried hurting all of you, and you forgive her. Can you honestly say you'd ever do that for me?" The barrel shook a bit as tears scalded her face. "I was always a burden. Always, 'Anya, not now.' 'Be quiet, Anya.' 'You don't know tact, you don't know how to be human.'" Her eyes gleamed as she said, "None of you understood me." Xander opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head, "Not even you, Xander. I thought you did, and maybe you knew me better than them. Maybe even loved me once. But not like her. Never like her." She aimed the gun right at him squarely, "Goodbye, Xander."  
  
Before she could fire, he ducked low, and leapt toward her. He tried to wrestle the gun from her, and a violent tug of war began between them. She wrenched the gun and his arms one way, and he would do the same in the opposite direction. Time slowed to a crawl as they fought, his mind remembering a shadowy figure attacking him, and Anya reaching for his throat. His hand closed upon the gun finally, and the shot nearly deafened them both as it rang out. The pair flew backwards from each other, and drops of blood dripped onto the floor beneath their feet. The trio laid silently, a bloody and strange triangle displayed. 


	17. All Our Time Has Come, Here But Now They...

Xander slowly opened his eyes, and sat up. His eyes flickered over to Willow, who likewise slowly lifted her eyelids, and peered at him dimly.  
  
"Xander?" She weakly called.  
  
He nodded, and shifted his body closer to her. His hand reached out, and touched her cheek briefly.  
  
"I'm right here."  
  
Wracking sobs shook her, and she blubbered, "I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded, "Me, too."   
  
Willow then noticed Anya lying prone nearby, red having blossomed upon her chest like a strange flower.   
  
"Xander," She said.  
  
Xander followed Willow's gaze, and then hurriedly crawled over to Anya's side.  
  
"Anya? Ahn?" He called to her softly, fear fluttering within, and turning his insides. "Anya?" Upon getting no response, his arms scooped her still body up to him. He shook her little, urging her to wake up. "Anya! ANYA!" Her warm body was already beginning to cool, and blood had stopped seeping from the bullet hole over her heart. His face, pale from shock and pain, paled further as his mind took in the absence of warm breath emerging from her mouth and nose, her heart, now stopped forever.  
  
"Oh no, no, please, no." He pulled her close to him, screaming and crying. "ANYA!!!!" His mournful howl reverberated throughout the room, and echoed into the night. His cry dissolved into quiet sobbing, his tears mixing with her drying blood. Willow had slowly crawled toward him, despite the pain flaring in her side, and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he continued crying. The trio remained there, quiet all but for the heart-wrenching weeping, and mournful whimpering at the cruelness of fate.  
  
  
The funeral was a small affair since the deceased didn't have any relatives. Just a silent group of friends stood vigil over the service. The priest finished saying prayers, and the coffin was slowly interred into the grave. Buffy, Dawn, and Giles briefly uttered grievances to Xander, and then backed away. They then walked away to give him a moment alone. His eyes were dry during the service, not able to shed a tear if he tried. Part of him died along with her, died the moment his finger pulled the trigger. The police declared it self-defense, but he knew the truth. No matter that she tried to kill him, just as she had killed another like him seven decades or so ago. Gregory and Catherine had finally gotten revenge, but at what price? His love, and his last shred of innocence were now gone forever, and all by his hand. He clutched the rose, not caring as the thorns pricked his fingers and hand. He stepped forward, leaned toward the grave, and threw the flower in. The diggers were already beginning to bury the coffin as the flower landed on top of the smooth wooden surface. Bits of dirt fell on the blood-slicked stem, and stuck there.  
  
"Forgive me," He quietly prayed, and then walked away. Willow, who stood nearby, watched him. She then stepped forward, blocking his path as he departed.  
  
She hesitantly placed her hand upon his shoulder, "Xander? I'm sorry for everything."  
His eyes looked back into her gaze, and she was surprised at the levels of sadness and loss there, as though part of him was missing. She had never seen such an expression upon his face before, and she wanted to erase it somehow. His eyes then narrowed briefly, a bubbling of anger appearing within the brown orbs. But then it faded just as quickly, and he only sighed.  
  
"Yeah, me too." He quietly replied. He glanced back at the grave, and then said, "You remember when we met?"  
  
She nodded, and smiled their secret smile that she only smiled at Xander with. "I remember seeing this funny little boy with sand in his hair. And then he looked over at me, and smiled, and waved."  
  
He smiled slightly, "I remember seeing this redheaded girl with pigtails waving back. And then going over to her, and giving her a hug." He glanced away, "God, things were simple then. When it did get so complicated?"  
  
She replied, "I don't know. That's just how life is, I guess."  
  
"Yeah," He then looked back at her, and asked, "How's your side?"  
  
"It's ok. The doctors said it passed cleanly through, so it should heal fine. How's your head?"  
  
He rubbed the back of his head briefly, "Still on my shoulders, so that's good. Just another concussion to add to the collection." In a more serious tone, he added, "Still hurts though."  
  
Willow gazed back at him. She knew he wasn't talking about his physical injuries. "I know," she quietly replied. She walked toward him, and grabbed his hand.   
  
His eyes glanced down to observe their linked hands, and gave her hand a tentative squeeze. He then closed the distance between them, and hugged her tightly.  
  
She let him rest his head on her shoulder, and she stroked his dark brown hair gently. She continued holding him, even as tears anew fell from his eyes. It wasn't just because of Anya; he was crying for her, for both of them, for Gregory, Catherine, who cruelly ripped apart, for Hannah, who was cast aside, for everyone.   
  
After what seemed like hours, he backed away from her, and noticed that she was crying a little as well. He smiled reassuringly back at her, and cupped his hand under her chin.  
  
"So what happens now?" He said, "We finally figured it out, but…"  
  
"…We both need time to heal." She finished, "In more ways than one. But soon." She peered back at him hopefully.  
  
"Soon," He nodded. He leaned forward, and brushed her forehead with a lingering kiss. He tilted his head back up, and added, "After all, everybody always need time."  
  
~The End~ 


	18. Author Notes, Thanks, and Acknowledgemen...

Author Notes or A look into the insane mind of a writer:  
  
First of all, many thank yous to those on FF.net and the W/X mailing list (Especially Dan, and Pal) for all the feedback, advice, and support. Also, sending a thanks to my muse for a major virtual kick in the arse to keep me going so I could finally finish this.  
  
Also, chapter titles were lyrics from notable artists, and are as follows:  
  
Chapter 1 - Live, a great local group from PA originally  
  
Chapter 2 - Actually the name of a little known group that a good friend of mine got me interested in.  
  
Chapter 3 - David Bowie, a veritable living legend.  
  
Chapter 4,5 - The Beatles. A band that needs no intro.  
  
Chapter 6,7 - Phil Collins, from his earlier, (and IMO, better) solo work  
  
Chapter 8,9,10, (12?) - The Cure, a wonderful band that has long inspired me.  
  
Chapter 11 - Blondie, another good group, and yes, they did more than just the Discoesque Heart of Glass.  
  
Chapter 13 - The Beta Band, found out about this great band by watching High Fidelity.  
  
Chapter 14 - Joss Whedon ;) I think most will recognize the ref.  
  
Chapter 15 - Single Gun Theory, an amazing Aussie band which unfortunately still remains obscure in the U.S.  
  
Chapter 16 - Fuel, a good song with some great lyrics that this title came from.  
  
Chapter 17 - Blue Oyster Cult, a great band with some of the best songs out there, particularly the Reaper, which this title is from.  
  
Notes: Whew! Well, like I said in the beginning, obvious influence from Dead Again. Fans of the movie will recognize where I was very faithful to the storyline, and where I skewed more into the Buffyverse. The idea was in my head for a while before finally committing it down. First of all, I needed Giles, and the whole his leaving deal just really screwed that up, so I kept him around. From the very beginning, I wanted Willow and Xander, their relationship has been one of the most stable, and the longest by far in the whole Buffyverse, and that chemistry was just too perfect. The most Mulder/Scullyish couple by far with their depending on one another, and UST. I started writing, and decided even though I got a couple of chapters hammered out quickly, keeping the postings a bit staggered like a serial novel, worked better toward the suspense of the story. Plus, kept people guessing longer with all the red herrings I threw in. I thought I was giving away too much early on with some of it, but a lot of people were still surprised. The biggest problem, was ok, got a story, but I didn't really have a murderer. At first, was thinking that Gregory, like Willow went a little too far into black magick, and summoned something really nasty. But it didn't really seem to fit well. Then, I thought of Anya, and her good ol' days as a nasty vengeance demon. Well, here's something, and it fit since she was certainly around at the time, and it was a simple matter of creating Hannah, the cast aside first wife. And she'd have legitmate reason to be upset. Divorce was very rare then, and no matter who was at fault, the wife was always blamed for having done something wrong, and stigmatized as result. Though as soon as I realized Anya was the one, I knew that it wasn't gonna be pretty. Already planned a violent and bloody ending. But now it was also a sad one, with as much tears as blood. And I knew it would have to be at Xander's hand, and resulting in tears, but with a promise of time, and the flickerings of hope. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and if you're even reading up to this point, thanks! It was an interesting time writing it, believe me, and I think Xander and I were both on hanky patrol for the last parts. Again, thanks.   
  
Be seeing you,  
Whisper  
3/11/02 


End file.
